


Dear jane

by pants2match



Series: ticking boxes [5]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: David Rossi: bau mother hen, F/M, Gen, office domesticity, work marrieds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 18:53:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1575953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pants2match/pseuds/pants2match
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>30 day drabble challenge: letters</p><p>“Well, I had three marriages over twenty-five years with the BAU, and not once was I dumped by a Dear John.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear jane

This is the third day in a row Alex has come in looking dead on her feet. 

It wouldn’t be alarming if it were anyone else (Hotch and JJ both have their boys to contend with; Garcia has her MMORPGs; Morgan has girls; and Reid has come in more than once on just an hour’s sleep after staying up all night reading), but in her almost two years with the BAU, she’s never come in with anything less than a solid six hours under her belt.

Which is why Dave’s more than a little worried when he’s making coffee and she doesn’t even notice.

She’s slumped down on her desk, her head propped up on one hand and a pen hanging from her lips. Sure, it’s not unusual for people to start lagging just before lunch or the end of the day, but it’s barely even two-pm and she looks like she's already checked out. 

So either that ME’s report is downright fascinating, or she’s asleep, because she hasn’t moved since he came down from his office.

She doesn’t even budge when the coffee pot beeps ready.

“Hey, Blake, can I see you for a sec?”

The pen drops from her mouth as she jolts up, and clatters across her desk, rolling behind her monitor. She cricks her neck, once, twice, and runs a hand through her hair, shaking it out at the top.

“Alex?”

She startles. “Yeah,” her voice cracks with sleep and she clears her throat, before spinning her chair around, “yeah, Dave, what’s up?”

“Can I see you a minute?”

“Yeah, sure, just let me—“ she takes a sip from her mug and spits it out the moment it hits her tongue, “just let me get a refill.” He extends the coffee pot out and she offers a thanks, dumping the dregs out and refilling her mug, before ripping open a couple of sugar packets with her teeth and following him.

She knows something’s up when he closes his office door behind her.

“So… what do you need?”

He leans up against his desk, “how’s it going?”

“Um, I’m good…” Her eyes narrow, “how are you?”

“I’m good—you sleeping okay?”

She sighs, dropping onto his couch, “this isn’t a business call, is it?”

“No, it is not… _So_?”

“I keep having this dream where I come home from work, and James is supposed to be there but…” Alex tries to stifle a yawn, but fails, “there’s just this—this _Dear Abby_ letter on the bed.” She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees and sighs. “I can’t remember exactly what it says, but it’s always some variation of he’s met someone in Africa or Cambodia or wherever and he’s going to stay. That it’s over, basically.”

“ _Dear Abby_?” He smirks, like he’s just been let in on a secret no one was supposed to know. “Number Three had a soft spot for medical dramas.”

 She raises her eyebrows for a moment before and a sly smile spreads over her lips.“Mum’s the word.”

“You know, I may not be as proficient in dream analysis as our Dr. Reid, but from what I’ve _overheard_ , dreaming about a separation might have something to do with neglect or abandonment issues.”

“I think I’d know if I had an abandonment complex, Dave.”

“But,” he starts, “we _were_ on a case last weekend…”

She groans, dragging her hands down her face, “God, you’re good.” The leather of the couch squeaks as she shifts, sinking into the cushions. “What if it doesn’t stop though? I’ve barely slept in three nights because once I wake up, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Dave moves behind his desk and settles in. “Well, I had three marriages over twenty-five years with the BAU, and not once was I dumped by a _Dear John_.” 

She chuckles, “that’s supposed to make me feel better, right?”

“Here,” she hears him yank open one of his desk draws before shutting it, “try and catch forty on the couch.”

Despite her altered reflexes, she catches the afghan one-handed before unzipping and kicking off her boots. She’d known Dave was the BAU mother hen since before she started with the unit, but seeing it in action, being on the receiving end of it, was something else. It’s effortless and comfortable, almost like he’s brought part of his home into his office.

She hums contented, “you’re a saint, Dave,”

“Now, that’s something I haven’t heard before.”

**Author's Note:**

> At some point I got it into my head that Alex was a pop culture buff, like Reid's antipode when it comes to it. ("Have you ever seen a movie called A Clockwork Orange?")
> 
> I can't think of any evidence to the contrary to this so it's obviously true, right?


End file.
